The Proposal
by YaoiFanL
Summary: AU. Inspired by the movie 'The Proposal'. Faced with deportation, Arthur Kirkland lies about being engaged to marry to his assistant, Alfred F. Jones. Alfred agrees, but imposes a few conditions of his own, including flying to Texas. Caught in a different world than he's used to, Arthur learns things aren't always the way they look on the outside and plans don't always work.
1. Chapter 1

I'm back with another story because I can't seem to write for the others properly. Yet. So I'm taking a break from them. Anyway, this fic is inspired by one of my all time favorite movies: _The Proposal_ (staring Sandra Bullock). So watched it a while ago and... hey, what would it be like in an USUK/UKUS context? Funny, I thought. So here it is! Although at some point it drifts completely from the movie, so don't expect it to be 100% identical.

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, the show or the movie and I'm making no profit out of this.

Also, I plan to make chapters shorter but update them more often. Plan to. Reviews are always appreciated!

* * *

 _Thud!_

The pile of papers slammed on the desk.

"I fucking hate him!" Alfred puffed, fishing through a layer for napkins or a cloth.

"Welcome to the club," a co-worker commented, her eyes locked on the computer screen. "What did he do this time?"

"See this?" The American pointed at the wetness on his chest. Half his tie and shirt were soaked and the coat got splashed too. "It's tea. He threw his tea on me because it wasn't the brand of tea he wanted. How does he even know what brand it is?" He snatched a napkin, which he rubbed on his chemise. An exasperated groan slipped through his lips when the spot wouldn't disappear. "What does the brand even matter? All tea tastes the same!"

"You got away easily, though."

"It was hot tea!" Alfred tossed his coat over the back of the chair, then loosened his tie. "And it took me two whole hours to get him that cup!"

After another minute of struggling with the napkin, he gave up, choosing instead to lower into his comfy chair. Not as comfy as his boss', not leather either. He wiggled his toes into his shoes – he barely felt his little toe anymore. It had been squeezed to death the entire morning. Some nerve tingled, so it must have been still functional. As if that wasn't enough, he had to run half the neighbour for a specific type of tea, got chased by an odd dog and almost hit by a car because he crossed the street on red. He even made it back in time. And all the shit he went to just to have the tea spilt on his clothes. Just because it lacked milk and it wasn't the right brand. Wonderful. Not like Mr. Little Devil even mentioned the brand he desired.

After being an assistant for three years, Alfred decided that every cell in his boss' body must have been filled with malice. If the devil ever took a human form, it had to be Kirkland. How else could a man so little be so evil? So annoying, so demanding, so ungrateful, so bitchy, so insufferable, so-

"Shit!" The blond jumped on his feet, swiftly turning to the co-worker on his left. "Gimme your shirt!"

"What?"

But Alfred didn't have time to wait. "Now, Jeff. I gotta get back. Meeting."

Getting the hint, Jeff complied without any remark. Everyone knew how settled the boss was on attire and one would have hell to pay if he presented in front of him dressed inappropriately. Whatever the reason. A spotted chemise fell under the inappropriate tag. Therefore, in less than five minutes, the young assistant grabbed the one folder he was ordered to bring and dashed to office. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, forced a smile on his face and knocked gently. He pushed it opened without waiting for approval.

His eyes shifted from one occupant of the room to the other. An unknown man took the comfy chair while Kirkland stood in front of him. Without making a harsh comment about it. Something didn't fit. The silence was maddening and the eyes staring at him in expectance only added to it. Choosing not to prolong the awkward moment, he lifted the folder.

"You want it now or later?"

He noticed a smirk on the Englishman's face but it disappeared as quickly as it appeared. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what he interrupted. He had the feeling it would end up with a scolding of some kind and he wasn't in the mood to put up with any more of Arthur's shit.

"I'll come back later."

"Oh, don't. You came just in time."

He swung the door open a moment too late.

"In time for what?"

"You asked me why I couldn't leave."

The words rolled off Arthur's tongue like poisoned honey. While they were directed to the stranger, Alfred wasn't sure he was safe either. Calm and calculated as always, but he recognised it as the tone Kirkland used whenever he won a contract or buried his adversary in misery. The victorious voice. The suit-n-glasses dude was in deep shit.

"I cannot leave because..." The Brit rubbed his lips together, glancing at his assistant for one split second. Not good. On a regular basis, it meant troubles. "We're getting married."

The room fell silent again. _We're getting married._ The words played over and over again in Alfred's head but he seemed unable to grasp them.

"You're what?" The stranger gave them a doubtful look, the glasses slowly sliding down his nose.

"We're what?" The American asked almost in unison. Did Arthur just say they would marry? No, impossible.

Yet somehow the very same Arthur slipped to his side. Furthermore, he patted his arm in a supposedly affectionate manner. It came out as a little edgy, though.

"Getting married. Soon."

"We're getting married?" His expression was a perfect mix of bewilderment and amusement. It was too surreal to be serious. However, the quiet plead – actually, it appeared more like an order – in those green eyes seemed pretty serious. "We're getting married... Hah, yeah, can you believe it?" He beamed, snatching his boss' hand and squeezing it a little too hard. The young man forced a bright smile, although he whispered between his teeth. "I _can't_." If he pulled this out, he could think about a career at Hollywood.

"No," the suit guy replied unimpressed. "I can hardly believe it."

Alfred felt the Brit tense. For once, he looked nervous. _What's the deal with this guy?_ He'd never seen anyone making Mr. Little Devil sweat.

"I think this is just a facade to escape deportation." Oh. Now it made sense. "I hope you are aware of the test, which will prove that this... joke is just a poor attempt to delay the inevitable. Of course, when you fail the test, you'll be deported, Mr. Kirkland and you will, Mr..."

"Jones."

"Mr. Jones, will be charged." _Charged?_ "Now tell me, when's the wedding?"

"June."

"June? But...of course!" Apparently, Arthur got his shit together. _Did he plan all this?_ Alfred wouldn't have put it past him. "It's the perfect month, with cherry blossoms and sunny days and... it's... great."

The immigration official hummed, still doubtful. "Where will it be?"

"New York."

"Texas."

They answered in sync. Giving a warning squeeze, which surprised Alfred, the Englishman smiled to the official. "I would have preferred New York but my baby-boo insisted on Texas. I'm still working on convincing him."

 _Baby-boo?_

"It will be Texas." No way would he agree on New York.

"I'm not going to Texas... darling."

"Oh, yes, you are. And we can go riding, just like you always loved!"

"Riding. Of course." Arthur let out a breathless laughter as he turned to the official. "I believe your business here is done, so, if you'll excuse us, we need to make the final arrangements for the wedding."

"I understand. Spare me an invitation, though. Duty calls."

"Naturally. A good day to you, Mr. Smith."

"To you too, Mr. Kirkland." The two shook hands. "Mr. Jones." The suit-n-glasses man nodded to the young blond.

"See ya."

The moment the official exited, Arthur withdrew his hand with a deep sigh. "Were you trying to break my bones? Bring me some ice."

Alfred looked at him in disbelieve. That was it? Pretend it was nothing?

"No."

"I beg your pardon?"

"No, I won't bring you ice. Aren't we gonna talk about this?" He waved his hands in the air to emphasise his point, then thrust them towards the door.

"There's nothing to talk about."

"You said we'd marry!"

"Yes, and you did a good job playing your role. Congratulations. Now go get that ice."

"No! You don't get it! I don' wanna marry you! And anyway, I'm already engaged! No, no fucking way am I going to jail for you."

"Don't be overdramatic, you won't go to jail. The test is simple, we'll have to answer a few questions and we're free to go. I'll give you a list with everything you need to know about me and you shall do the same. Once we pass the test, we make a small wedding in June and divorce after a year."

Alfred blinked at him, mouth hanging open. Was he for real? It couldn't be that easy.

"Do you need a scheme of the plan?"

The assistant shook his head. "Did you hear what I just said?"

"Of course I did, but did you? You might not be the brightest but I believe even you can follow a plan that simple. Otherwise I don't know why you're still employed here." Arthur made a 'shoo' gesture towards the door. "Ice, please."

* * *

That's it for now! So what do you think?


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you for the reviews, fav and follows! I'm glad you liked it.  
Also, I'm not living in NYC but I've read somewhere on the internet that you can get from Brooklyn to Manhattan in 30 minutes. If you drive like a madman. Don't try it!  
And also, I'm looking for a beta-reader. So, if you have any suggestions, don't hesitate to share.

* * *

Chapter II

He groaned as he rolled on the other side and pulled the blanket over his head. The alarm rang loudly, causing a vibrant pain to shot through his skull. Mornings sucked. Mornings sucked even more when you got dragged into a fake engagement with your boss. And they sucked completely when that boss was Mr. Little Devil.

Alfred wasn't ready to greet the new day.

He just wanted to sink under the warm blanket, to go back to sleep and wake up in a week. Maybe by then, Arthur would have deemed him disappeared and forgotten about the marriage. Yeah, he could get away with that. He could go low under the radar, fade away for a while, then return and apply for another job. A job under a kinder boss.

If only the alarm stopped ringing…

"Alright, alright, I'm up!"

He shouted to no one in particular. After all, he lived alone in a relatively small flat on the 4th floor of a building in Brooklyn. Not that he minded. He enjoyed company but sometimes loneliness was best. Like when he spent the whole day running around to bring that and that to a certain man; at times like those, he would just collapse the moment he reached the bed. Or couch. Thankfully, it didn't happen too often. He still had a life outside the job.

The American slammed his fist on the clock, successfully stopping the alarm. He trotted like a zombie to the bathroom; about twenty minutes later, he returned to the bedroom in an only half-zombie state. Somehow he managed to doze off while waiting for the running water to get warm. He fished through the wardrobe for boxers, a clean suit, a white chemise and a tie of whatever colour. From the corner of his eye, he noticed the numbers on the clock changing.

7:42. No rush... _7:42!_ All laziness disappeared once his brain realised how late it actually was. He should have arrived at work before 8 a.m. ...And the ride to Manhattan wasn't exactly short. Even longer with the traffic. The clothes didn't matter anymore, he grabbed what was closer and quickly shoved them on. Breakfast – who had time? He grabbed the keys, the bag and stormed out. He drove like a madman, yelling at any idiot in traffic who would cut his way or stop at a yellow light. Red meant stop; yellow meant they _should_ stop! He dropped by some cafe that was in the way – for a large coffee and tea. He would need that coffee.

He parked in front of the company at exactly 8:13. Thirteen minutes after eight. _I'm so dead._ He could already hear the scolding that would come in less than five minutes. Even so, he hurried to the office, coffee in one hand and tea in the other. His co-workers gave him curious looks as he rushed by them but he ignored every single one.

"I'm here!" He announced as he burst into the office, barely missing his boss.

"You're late."

The sharp remark – the begging of the end. The end of a possibly good day. Getting himself ready to block out each of the following comments, Alfred handed over the drink. Arthur took a large gulp only to choke on it and wrinkle his nose at the disgusting taste.

"This is coffee."

"Huh? Oh, wrong cup." The assistant took the coffee back and handed over the tea. Still, the Englishman seemed displeased. "What now?"

"For how long have you been working for me?"

"Three years." _For too much, you old geezer!_

"And yet you are incapable of bringing me a proper tea. Wrong brand. Again."

Arthur shoved the cup into his chest and he struggled to catch it before it spilt. It balanced dangerous and inevitably half of it soaked his clothes. Maybe he should have worn a rain mantle too.

"Not nice, dude! It was clean!"

"Then maybe you should be more careful with liquids."

Jones poked out his tongue at the Brit's back. Mr. Little Devil would never admit his fault, would he? Of course not, he was perfection in flesh and bones. Yeah right!

"Do you think they sell tea-proof suits?" He muttered as he followed his boss out the office.

"It's America, they sell anything. If not, try China, they have the largest variety of products at accessible prices, although the quality is questionable."

"Can I get a new boss too?"

"Unlikely. Now come on, we don't have time to waste."

Guessing the remained tea wasn't needed, he dropped it in the bin. He kept the coffee, though. As they headed for the exit, the employees continue giving them weird looks. What? Did he look that bad? Neah, even after such a morning he couldn't look that bad. And he surely had clothes on. Jeff motioned for his shirt, which he answered with a shrug. Another man – one he actually didn't know too well – mouthed something along the lines of 'Really, him?'...him what? He'd been Kirkland's assistant for a while now.

Deciding to ignore the oddness of the morning, Alfred focused back on the Brit. "So where we going?"

"Immigrants department. I need to make an appointment for the test, so we can proceed with the plan and solve this issue as soon as possible."

"Yeah, about that..."

"Don't worry, I'll do the talking. Your purpose is to drive me there. I'll make sure it won't interfere with your working schedule, but with your spare time." By then, they had reached the car and Arthur had comfortably occupied the seat next to the driver. "Did you get the email? I sent you all the information you need last night."

"Arthur. Look at me. This guy-" Alfred pointed his thumbs at himself "-is not marrying you."

"Don't be silly, of course you are. Think about your price while you drive."

"You're impossible, you know that?"

The engine stirred away, filling the short-lived silence.

"It's why I'm a leader, not a low employee."

"Ouch! Pay me some respect, I work my ass hard here."

"I'm sure your salary pays off." Arthur replied absently as he set the destination on the GPS. "Get us there in fifteen."

Despite being a few metres from the entrance, Kirkland didn't leave the car. Instead he remained glued on the spot, his eyes roaming over his assistant in a critical manner. Alfred raised an eyebrow in exchange. Arthur just sighed and reached for his coat to unbutton it.

"Woah, dude!" The American pulled back, holding up his hands. "We're not that far in this 'relationship'. Plus the windows aren't black."

"I'm not undressing you." The man pulled a small bottle from his bag and poured some liquid on a handkerchief. Alfred stared at it questioningly. "You can't present yourself wearing dirty clothes – I wouldn't marry such a...careless person."

"You know we're not getting married, right?"

Ignoring the reminder, Arthur grabbed the edge of his coat in order to drag him closer. Now unbuttoned, it was easier to work on the chemise. He removed the tie for better access and gently cleaned the spot. Although not wet anymore, a slightly brownish spot spread across the piece of attire. Whatever the substance was, it worked greatly because, by the time Arthur finished, it looked as if it had never been dirty in the first place. Brand new. A satisfied smile tugged at the Brit's mouth, one that Alfred couldn't overlook. It actually seemed genuine, nothing like a bored, out of pleasantries or robotic ones. It was kind of cute. But then it turned into a frown as Arthur washed away the spots on the coat. Once cleaning done, he fixed the tie and buttoned back the coat.

"Better." Yet the frown returned. "Your hair is a wild mess."

"Makes me hot."

"Maybe, but it doesn't make you serious."

"So you admit it makes me hot?" Alfred shook his head. "Forget I asked. Hair gel doesn't tame that curl, anyway."

Despite his protests, his boss somehow managed to arrange his hair in a more tamed style. Which he didn't really like. Which Mr. Little Devil didn't seem to care about. And as much as he wanted to get annoyed by it, the fact that the Brit acted so caring prevented him from doing so. Then again, Arthur only cared for the image it would inflict on his persona. Still too girlfriend-like to be comfortable with it. Still too cute too interrupt.

"There, now you look presentable. Let's go."

Still very much weird.

* * *

Reviews are still appreciated ^^


	3. Chapter 3

Quick update! I slipped a reference there... hope you notice it.  
Still searching for a beta-reader. Suggestions?

* * *

Chapter III

The building looked as plain on the inside as it looked on the outside. White walls, white floor and white plastic chairs in the waiting room. It reminded Alfred of a hospital. Arthur, however, remained unfazed as if he barely registered his surroundings. He skipped over the twenty people standing in the row, going directly to woman hidden behind a small window. The woman pointed a finger at the end of the row and, although Alfred couldn't hear her from his spot, he was fairly sure she instructed his boss to go to the end of the row.

Or not. Kirkland returned to the chairs and took a seat. He crossed his legs, folding his arms at the same time. He stayed quiet, eyes fixed on a very interesting non-material spot on the opposite wall. Or maybe he was just glaring at the woman. Either way, he didn't seem like he'd explain what happened.

"So…" So Alfred had to ask. "What now?"

"Now we wait. They open in two hours."

Two hours was a long time. Therefore, Jones shoved his hands in his pockets and let himself fall on the chair. Unlike the other blond, he leaned back in a casual manner with his legs opened. Completely inappropriate, even more when taking into consideration his attire. He knew it annoyed Mr. Little Devil, but he enjoyed playing with the man's nerves… for some reason even he couldn't point out. Sure enough, Arthur pursed his lips in distaste. However, no remark came, so the assistant didn't change his position. He dismissed the numerous, full of meaning glances thrown his way.

After five minutes of being ignored, Arthur glanced one more time at his employee's legs. His lips parted to make a comment, but he was cut off before speaking a word.

"Found something interesting?"

The Brit rolled his eyes at his tease, meeting his smirk with a bored expression. "Hardly."

"I don't know, dude. You seemed… what was that? Oh, yeah, intrigued."

"Hardly." Mr. Little Devil repeated in the same unimpressed way. "At least try being more creative with your insinuations."

Alfred pouted. It didn't earn the reaction he wanted… Actually, it didn't earn much of a reaction. He aimed for making his boss lose his cool, but the man had more self-control than he anticipated. It wasn't fair! The other day he could trigger a vicious reaction, an acid reply or a folder thrown at him, with little to no effort. He didn't need more than a phrase. Pissing off Arthur and getting yelled at for that was like their personal ritual, their cat-and-mouse game.

Sometimes he had a feeling he was kind of masochistic around his boss.

No, really. By teasing or bugging in any form and shape, he risked his career – which was still in process of really becoming a career – but he never considered ceasing it. Truth be told, the Englishman was just too fun when annoyed for his own good. And Alfred enjoyed it too much for _his_ good.

The realisation only reminded him how he failed a moment ago. He tossed his head back with a defeated whine. His one method of chasing away the boredom proved useless. He checked the time – still one hour and a half to wait.

"I'm hungry. I'm going to eat something."

"Hot tea with milk and small sized stuffed bread with cheese and bacon would be great. Proper tea, if you may. Thank you."

"Well, I didn't ask... but sure, dude. Be right back!"

Taking the chance, Jones hurried out the building. He sighed relieved; the noisy street was far better than the hospital-like indoors. All that white started getting on his nerves. Therefore, he took his sweet time walking around in search for a hotdog cart, a fast-food or a cafe.

The more time he wasted, the more thoughts about marriage invaded his mind. They kept popping up over and over again until he gave up trying to get rid of them. Instead, he started considering them. What was so bad about getting married, anyway? Besides already being engaged to someone else. Besides the groom being his boss. Besides the jail punishment if the plan failed. Now, he knew about Arthur everything one could know about him... but did Arthur do the same? He doubted that guy knew more than his name. Maybe not even his full name.

If the test would be this day, they were doomed. Actually, Mr. Little Devil would be doomed. Alfred was keen on denying any engagement, if that was the case.

But if the test would be any other day...

Such opportunity shouldn't have been missed, right? Kirkland needed him – completely depended on his decision -, which he could take advantage of it. Alright, taking advantage of people was far from honourable or nice, but he'd spent three precious years of his life under the man's shoe. He deserved something in return. Something he likely wouldn't receive without a little...persuasion.

The American inhaled deeply, pleased with his final choice. Amelia would understand too after he'd explain it fully. Suddenly, the world looked brighter!

Humming a happy tune, he entered the fast-food at the corner of the street. He treated himself to a Big Mac, large French fries, plus Coke, which would fill his belly until the late lunch break. For some reason, his boss rather forgot lunchtime. In a moment of true altruism – and because he didn't feel like searching for stuffed bread with cheese and bacon -, the blond also asked for McGriddles with bacon, cheese and egg, plus fries on the go. As for tea, he'd spotted a vending machine at the entrance of the Immigration Department.

Half an hour later, he returned to Arthur with the breakfast bag in one hand and the tea in the other.

"There you go!" With a goffy grin on his face, he dropped the bag on the Brit's lap.

"McDonalds don't sell what I asked for."

"It's the closest I found. It has bread, bacon, cheese and egg." Wink. "French fries too."

"My schedule doesn't leave time for gym. This has too many calories." That being said, Kirkland put the bag aside.

"Aw, come on!" Alfred picked up one of the French fries. "You're upsetting this little guy!" He moved it in a circular direction in front of the Englishman's mouth. "You know you want one, it's so yummy!"

"Stop behaving childishly, you're embarrassing yourself."

"Say 'ah'."

"Jones."

The assistant rolled his eyes. "You're no fun! Whatever, here's your nice, hot, cup of tea with extra milk."

Arthur peered at the content of the cup before he carefully took it into his hands.

"It's cold."

"Nice cup of tea with extra milk."

"It has the colour of mould."

"Cup of tea with extra milk."

"I don't see any milk."

"Cup of tea."

"I'm not even sure it is tea."

"Cup! Drink it already!"

Alfred huffed as he plunged onto the chair. It was unbelievable how picky that man could be when it came to tea. With the corner of his eye, he noticed Arthur taking a fry. Hesitantly as if he feared it being poisonous. He opened his mouth to comment, but the other stood up before he had the chance. Upon looking up, the suit-n-glasses guy appeared into sight. Smith, wasn't it?

"Good morning, gentlemen. I assume you came for the test. This way, please."

 _Here goes nothing!_


	4. Chapter 4

So... do you enjoy the fic so far?

* * *

 **Chapter IV**

If the waiting room had been unnerving with all the white around, the office was even worse. Instead of white, a pale blue covered the walls. A wooden desk with mountains of papers on it occupied the right side of the room, facing two leather black chairs. Seats the merry couple took.

Perhaps merry didn't quite describe it.

In all honesty, the place would have been as regular as any other under normal circumstances. But being about to marry a man you'd despised for three years, who just happened to be your boss, also while having a valid fiancée didn't count as normal circumstances.

Alfred loosened his tie. The air was thick with tension and breathing slowly turned to a colossal effort. He had made his mind to play along and milk out the situation, decision strengthened by the threat whispered to him as they entered the office.

So, as settled, he let Arthur do the talking. Instead, he focused on the abstract painting behind Smith, observing every line and spot and trying to figure out what it symbolised. Not due to interest, but just to have a little distraction.

"Mind answering a few questions right now?"

Alfred's eyes snapped to the official. Did he heard right? Yes, he would mind taking the test now!

"My apologies, but we are in a hurry."

Yeah, they were in a hurry. No matter why. In a hurry for anything as long as they got out.

"Oh, it won't take long!" Smith waved his hand carelessly. "As a couple, you should be able to answer all of them in ten minutes."

"Ten minutes make a difference in business. I don't have time."

"I insist. Sit down, Mr. Kirkland." Although obviously not pleased, the Englishman acted diplomatically. "We shall start... unless Mr. Jones has something to add. You seem nervous, are you feeling well?"

 _No, not really._ How could he feel well? He looked at Arthur – a stern gaze which denied him to expose the truth. A warning gaze. Then he looked at the official – predatory eyes shifting between the couple.

"Yeah, I have something to say..." The stern gaze turned to glare. Don't you dare, it appeared to threaten. "Bring it on."

Whether his boss sighed in relief or disappointment, the assistant couldn't tell. He didn't care to analyse it, either. But he could tell that Smith disliked his reply; the way his lips tightened into a straight line and the way his hands snatched some paper were enough indication.

"I must remind you the consequences of lying: five years prison, plus a generous fine of 30.000$." His eyes bored into Alfred's, expecting a confession. None came, except from a clumsy way of locking hands. "Very well."

The official glanced at the paper. The questions came one by one, all easy so far. Well, Arthur had graciously guessed a couple, but all his replies were pertinent enough to seem real. Although the American would have palm-faced five times already had the suit-n-glasses man not watched him like a freaking eagle.

The examination continued with things akin to favourite colours or dishes, who cooked for that matter, whether they lived together and if so for how long, the relationship's longevity, when they had met, when and where the first date was. Now that was an inquiry Alfred had the perfect story for! Of course, his dear lover condescended not to interfere.

The first date was at the Gallery, on the opening day of the Picasso Expo on May 12, a year ago. It didn't actually start as a date; more like an accidental meeting which resulted into an awkward discussion about the paintings. A discussion that went down the hill, but the assistant managed to pull it out with his fabulous charm. At the mention of which, Arthur snorted in his seat. Then the words flowed until they found themselves talking for hours, sharing impressions about meaningless things. Movies, videogames, heroes, comics, aliens, the latest rumour about some celebrity that none of them really cared about, cowboys, music, cars, some books, places and events – little nothings. They had some ice-cream, emptied bottles of water because the temperature was incredible high, then the Brit got nausea and threw up over-board on the sail to Liberty Island. Kirkland interfered to mention that he did absolutely not throw up, although he felt slightly light-headed. Intervention that Alfred laughed off and continued his story. They spent a lot of time waiting in the line to get to the top of Statue of Liberty, a period that flew quickly. They reached the crown at sunset, which provided them the most beautiful scenery. So they held hands while watching the display of vibrant colours and the sun disappearing behind the buildings.

Naturally, it all finished with a kiss.

The office sank into silence when the story ended. The listeners seemed dazed, caught in a trance, probably imaging the date. Jones had to admit too that it had been a great date. Now that he thought about it, kind of romantic, the Hollywood romantic-comedy type.

Smith was the last to come back to reality. By that time, Arthur had already regained his business expression and had struggled to avoid locking eyes with the other blond, while Alfred smirked pleased by the moment of weakness that his boss showed. Not really a weakness, but something more human than his usual devilish self. A minute of daydreaming.

The official cleared his throat before expressing his opinion on the date. He bought the half-lie. Then he proceeded with other questions, albeit more light-hearted. Everything went fine until they were asked who could confirm their relationship; a family member, a relative, a friend, a co-worker, a neighbour, anyone at all. Except there was no one who could plead in their favour. Smith became suspicious once more.

"My relatives are miles away and I'm not particularly close to any of them. I haven't contacted my brothers since... years ago." Arthur confessed after a little persuading. It was clear he didn't enjoy talking about family.

"And we kept it a secret because he's my boss and I was going to be promoted and I didn't want my colleagues to think I got the promotion and a raise because I fucked the boss. Right, Arthur?"

"That's right. It would have given the wrong impression, which would be a shame considering how hard he'd worked for this."

"So there is no one who can confirm your story?" Smith raised an eyebrow. "That's dubious."

"My bro will!"

"Your brother?" Mr. Little Devil gave him a curious look. "I thought he wasn't in the city."

"Oh, he isn't! But, baby, don't tell me you forgot about this week?"

"This week..."

"Yeah," Alfred turned to the official who didn't voice more of his suspicions yet. "Tomorrow morning we leave for Texas. It's my pops' anniversary and what better moment to introduce my fiancé? It'll be a double celebration! Triple with the wedding!"

"I see." Smith put the paper aside. "Then I shall see you in two weeks, after the ceremony, for the final test. You have time until then to make any confession without further consequences."

"Thanks, dude, but I think we made all the confessions we had to. Bye!"


	5. Chapter 5

UK: chuffed to bits = very pleased.

US: I'm pretty sure that 'chuff' is used as a nicer term for 'fart' or... the body part out of which it comes out.

* * *

 **Chapter V**

Never in his life had Alfred been gladder to leave a place than now! He'd take detention with Mr Beker any time over returning to Smith's office. Mind you, that was the one person whom he truly despised through all his high school years. He could have sworn the man had been doing some satanic shit and used him as sacrifice – why else would someone torture students with neverending hours of being locked up in the math's room and forced to write the same sentence a hundred times on the blackboard. Make it two hundred. 'I will not run down the halls.', 'I will not laugh in class.', 'I will not call Russians commies.' Years later, he remembered the exact words he'd been writing on that board. Well, the main three anyway.

"Nice save there."

Oh, for a second, he had forgotten about Arthur. The very reason he might soon end up in jail. Yep, he was insane for even considering the idea of going along with the plan. Definitely and irremediably insane.

"The promotion excuse was good, so was the brother one. You could hire an actor to play the role of your brother, but I don't know yet how to deal with the legal issue. It's unlikely that Smith won't check your family tree. In any case, I'm chuffed to bits-"

"Shut up." Alfred turned on his heels to face a bewildered Brit. "Smith can check my family tree all he wants 'cause I have bros. Okay? Okay. And you're gonna meet my crazy family that's gonna freak you out this weekend – you're free to break the 'engagement' whenever you want. Get the hint? Good. I'll get the promotion because I damn well deserve it and a bonus of 30.000 bucks in advance for the fine. And... I don't want to know about your... chuffs."

"Absolutely not."

"Then good luck in finding someone willing to marry you."

"Settle for 10.000."

"40."

"15 and that's my last offer."

" _50._ "

"…30 it is."

"I knew you'd come to terms!" Alfred gave the brightest smile he could manage. "Now propose me."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Ask me to marry you. Nicely."

"Fine. Marry me."

"That's the lamest proposal ever!"

"What do you want me to do? Get on my knees, confess my undying love and ask for your hand like a hopeless romantic?" Alfred's smile turned to a full grin that promised troubles. "You have to be joking."

"Whenever you're ready, sweetie."

Arthur's eye twitched.

Obtaining the promotion and early bonus of 30.000$ was the easy part. The hard part was getting Mr Little Devil to step on his pride, to embarrass himself, as the Brit probably saw it. In front of every passer-by who cared to eavesdrop or glance at the couple. _'Ah, sweet revenge!'_ Now, Alfred had never been a bully, but his boss fully deserved it. Life was a bitch, right? Slapping you when you expected the least.

With a heavy sigh of defeat, Arthur pursed his lips. He looked around, then adopted the standard proposal position: on one knee and reaching for Alfred's hand. Which Alfred refused to give, but the gesture must have counted for something. As begrudgingly and forced as his action were, his voice matched them. "Alfred Jones-"

"You forgot the F."

"Of course." Strained words, spit with disdain. "Alfred _F._ Jones. Would you be so kind as to… grant me the privilege-" Yes, he deserved a medal for just that one word. "-of being my husband for the following twelve months-" Ruined it. "-so I can stay in America and you can get your promotion and bonus?"

While he had to admit that his boss looked absolutely lovely on his knees and defeated, the proposal was a bit disappointing. Not that he expected much. How did any woman find that guy charming? Alfred had counted at least six girlfriends since he had become assistant and many more one-nightstands picked up at fancy bars.

"I'm flabbergasted, dude. Where did you get your lines from?"

"From the very bottom of my heart." That black, evil heart, if any at all existed? Alfred refrained from speaking the question. "Well?"

"You knocked me out, dude." The American let out a victorious – overly-pleased – sigh. "I will. Pack your things, baby, we're leaving tomorrow!"

Warning given, he jumped into the car and drove away before he could hear any objections. He'd hear them the following day, all the way to Texas, all about how he'd left his boss on his knees in the middle of the street and then forced him to go to a place as hot as hell. If he remembered right – and he did – Arthur was not fond of heat. Good!

Arthur woke up to the noise of water dripping on his sill. The pouring rain was whipping the window, making almost impossible to see anything outside. It didn't look like it was going to stop anytime soon, for the sky was an endless mass of grey clouds. Not a single ray of sun slipped through. Gloomy, depressing and hopeless.

The weather matched his mood.

With a heavy sigh, he dragged his body out of bed. He didn't look forward to the new day. He had never been fond of cowboys and wasn't Texas their haven? A bunch of men with huge egos, thinking themselves the epitome of manliness, yet with an impressive lack of manners. Dust and horse shite to top it all. Had Jones really grown up there? He'd give Texas the benefit of the doubt if just to see his assistant being thrown off a horse. Oh, yes, he would have liked to see that! See how that serves the lad – it should teach him to think twice before forcing his boss into going to places he despised. Not like he had ever been to Texas.

One of RED's song was his cue that Jones arrived. Fifteen minutes earlier, which could only mean the lad was eager to start his annoying game. Arthur had no doubt that the whole Texas thing was payback for years of working as his assistant, although he recalled making decent requests. Perhaps some extra hours or a couple weekends at the office, but he had mentioned them in Alfred's file, which would be beneficial on the long run.

His expression was a mix of amusement and pity. His boss, waiting on the edge of the sidewalk, right next to a pool, wore one of his most expensive suits and held a luggage in one hand and an umbrella in the other hand. His face read smug, maybe a bit stiff too. The businessman looked so out of place, so elegant in such a dump landscape created by the rain, that the whole image was plain funny.

Arthur crooked an eyebrow when Alfred refused to get out the vehicle in order to help him with the luggage. He resisted the temptation of waiting for the Brit to get closer, then reverse the car and splash his fancy suit. It was too early in the morning to be that mean.

After Jones ignored a gentleman's manners – or an assistant's duties – for a few minutes, Arthur released an annoyed breath, dragged his baggage to the car and threw them on the backseats. Shit, they would have gotten damp by the time they would reach their destination. The American pursed his lips, not mentioning it when his boss took the seat next to the driver.

"What clothes did you shove in there?"

"Excuse me?"

"You're wearing a suit at 5 a.m. on the way to Texas." Alfred drove off. "Are those patent leather shoes?"

"Keep your eyes on the road."

The American rolled his eyes instead. "Dude, there's no other car on the road!"

"But there are trees you can crash into."

"God," he groaned. Was Arthur going to pick on his driving the whole ride? He'd better not! He made a mental note to let his boss cross the distance to the other state by foot if he kept on focusing too much on the driving. "Whatever."

"Yes." No reply, just a confused glance. "Yes, they are patent leather shoes."

"You don't have to impress my parents, you know?"

"I won't be trying to; their opinion on me won't make a different. These are my favourite shoes and quite comfortable."

Alfred couldn't help but snort with laughter. "Baby, you're so gonna hate Texas!"

Arthur frowned a bit, trying to make sense of his 'fiance's amusement. He already hated Texas, but what did his shoes have to do with it? They were comfortable and – yes, they would make a good impression even if he didn't care about Alfred's family's thoughts about him. Speaking of which, had the lad described his relatives as crazy and warned him they'd freak him out? He scoffed at the idea. Jones hadn't met the Kirkland family! He hadn't seen his brothers in years – he didn't miss them and he guessed the feeling was mutual – but he could bet they stayed as aggravating as always.

"Shall we go over the standard questions while we get to your home town? There are a few details that Smith will ask and you should know how to answer to match m-"

"No."

The Brit raised an eyebrow. They would later, whether the American like it or not. They should have been prepared to give matching responses to the question and he was fairly sure that some details Alfred would never know.

* * *

Wow, I can't believe it's been a year since my last update! I'm alive, don't worry, and I'll try to be faster on updates.

I'd like to thank everyone who's reviewed, faved and followed. I hope you're still putting up with my slow updates and you're still interested in this fic.

So what do you think about this chapter? Reviews are much appreciated.


	6. Permission and mislead

**Permission to repost and misleading**

Sorry, guys, this is not a new chapter. More **important** , though!

 **I have given my permission to repost** my stories, posted here, on other sites or WIPs that are yet to be posted. To whom? **To pro-roleplay on Tumblr.** Yes, I'm aware she reposted fragments. Yes, I'm aware some are credited and some aren't. **I requested** those few not to be credited! Why? Because I'm not the most confident writer out there and sometimes I just want to know people's opinion without worrying about embarrassing myself or being shamed for what I like.

 **Do not accuse people of stealing without checking!**

Thank you to those who took the five minutes it takes to message me and inform or ask me about whether I was aware of my stories being reposted. This announcement(?) is to answer all those 22 messages. That is what you should do before throwing mud at someone!

To those 78 anons who sent her hate messages - check your facts. Just because some big ass blog assumes she's been stealing doesn't mean she has. I don't care how it started, what the argument was about, I don't care about your reasons behind giving people such ideas. It isn't right! It's not just lying but also misinforming people, misleading them and defaming. Doesn't matter what blog or person you do this to, it still isn't right. Being popular doesn't give you the right to defame people without true facts and proofs. Sending hate or accusing further because you read it somewhere doesn't make it right either.

Take five minutes. **Ask the writer.** You might be surprised but some people ask for permission before they repost something and some writers give said permission.

Yes, I know she doesn't see anything bad in reposting as long as the artist is credited. I've known her for a few years; I've discussed quite a few things. I don't mind smoking. Do I smoke? No. She doesn't mind reposting. Does that equal with doing the action without permission? No. Is it possible? Yes. Is it mandatory? No. See my point? Check your suppositions or information before you start throwing mud. There's a long way between not minding an action and doing that action.

 **Words can cause more damage than punches.** Words are strong, especially online. Seeing as she hasn't reposted without permission, she's safe of getting her account shut or anything. What about reputation, though? That's hard if not impossible to clean when there are a dozen people making the same statements, even without proof, and spreading the word. Spreading the lies. Will the 100th person who sees that statement check its validity? Maybe. But maybe not, because 99 people had stated it before so it must be true.

In this case, those words damaged reputation. However, there are worse cases when it's not the reputation getting hurt. **Feelings get hurt.** People can take things to the heart. Don't throw bad words so easily; you don't know what the person you attack has been through. **People get hurt.** "You look fat in that dress." I would shrug and change my dress. What about a person who's been bullied for being plump? Would that simple sentence sting or would they just shrug too? They might even take it as "Geez, you're so fat you don't fit into that dress!" See my point? I believe we have all seen just as much damage words cause, from a few minutes of feeling down to severe depression or suicide. As I said, this case is lesser and no one's feelings got hurt (though some neurones might have burnt from all that annoyance).

Back to the topic at hand: **False accusations, misleading and defaming are not okay. Spreading lies and starting fake rumours are not okay. Hinting without proof or as much as a five minutes check that someone has stolen something is not okay. Sending hate is bullying (in most cases) and bullying is not okay. It doesn't matter who you are or who you direct your statements towards.**

To everyone reading this, those who have dealt with similar situations and those who haven't, I feel the need to say this: **Do not let people act like that towards you. Don't let people disrespect you or defame you.** Doesn't matter who they are, doesn't matter where or when they do it. **Block them.** If they continue: **Report them.** If they defamed one based on assumptions and without checking, they might do it to others too. I'm not saying they will, but they might. You might not care because that's not you but put yourself in the shoes of the other person. Same goes for hate messages that consist of cursing, insulting and defaming. Keep in mind that constructive criticism and disagreement are not hate.

And if it isn't clear yet: **I have given my permission to repost to pro-roleplay**. **LauraFictionOfficial** (Wattpad) and **laura-fiction** (Tumblr) are my accounts, thus you might find my stories there too. So far I haven't posted anything and chances are I won't post fan-fictions there.

To people who are interested in **reposting my stories** , I give you **my permission** to do so only under **three simple rules** :

1\. Don't claim it as yours. Credit me and link to my profile or to the original post of the story.

2\. Do not edit my work without asking me for permission before you repost.

3\. Let me know that you reposted or intend to repost. Send me a link to the post. That way I can see people's opinions too. Don't repost them on the same webside I posted them, though.

*If you intend to repost on adult sites, ask me directly before. I might or I might not approve it.

Failing to respect these rules will result in a polite request to delete the repost. If you refuse, I'll have to contact the website's staff.

Please alert me if you notice someone reposting without respecting these rules. Besides the accounts I've already mentioned, of course.

Thank you for reading this far!


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